The End
by faketongue
Summary: Sophia is saved by someone who doesn't belong to her group. Are Rick and the gang facing new foes... or friends that may bring salvation?
1. We've never talked about Tunguska

First Walking Dead fanfiction. I know it starts slow, but I'm inspired, and don't worry, the characters from the series will show up soon. I hope y'all like it so far and please excuse any mistakes, I'm not a native English speaker.

Comments are appreciated.

* * *

><p>Part 1 - We've never talked about Tunguska<p>

What, would you say, makes this world our world? As of today, in this very second?

Technology? Hygiene? Taxes?

Would you say the world is what it is because we are people of reason? We know how to feel, how to work with our minds and while we complain, the majority is still happy, because in the end, we are alive. We have survived wars and diseases so many times, and we've conquered the moon and the known universe.

Most people think mankind is invincible. And we've been invincible for quite some time. We don't have any natural weapons. All we have is reason.

Reason keeps us in control. Keeps us controlled. Without it, we would've been dead ages ago.

Reason made this world our world. Even though we had lost our humanity a long time ago, reason kept us alive.

Why I am telling you this?

Because, dear friend, reason has died. It died when the last disease mankind would ever know went airborne.

It died when the virus in the air had killed millions of people in a matter of weeks. It died when governments started to shoot the survivors instead of giving out a vaccine that would take months to create and might not even work.

Reason died when the dead in mass graves started polluting the water supply, leaving more infected.

Died when the first phase was over, and the infected started to rise, after death.

When bites and scratches became deadly.

Reason is dead.

So is everyone I knew. Dead.

And walking.

* * *

><p>"Why the fuck don't they die, goddamnit?"<p>

I woke to mumbled curses and a rather bumpy ride across bare fields which now where clouded with heavy autumn fog. For a moment I didn't know exactly what was happening and where I was, but then the driver let out another annoyed grunt.

"Please tell me! You've read about this shit, so tell me! The weather should've taken them out a long time ago. Why do they keep coming?"

The foul-mouth next to me was Arnie Benson, a 50-something guy with a bare head, a ZZ-Top beard and a statue large enough to make P.T. Barnum roll in his grave with happiness. In fact, when I met him, Arnie told me to just call him "whopper", because everyone called him that.

He was beefy enough to actually be one. A whopper, I mean. God, I would've killed for fast food right then and there. Just to taste a cheeseburger one more time...

"Stop lookin' at me like that, girly. You can eat me when I'm dead."

"Maybe I'll eat you when I'M dead," I grinned and stuck out my tongue.

Whopper concentrated on the road again... or the lack of one, and I held on to the door handles. I thought it was stupid to go off the highways, even more stupid to drive across a field, but there was always a method to his madness. Although, in this particular case, I was missing out on it.

"Why are we here again?"

"Herd," he grumbled into his beard. "And you still haven't answered my question."

Yawning, I put myself in an upright position and reached for the glovebox where we stored our cigarettes. Unfortunately, their amount was declining, which was one of the shittiest things about the apocalypse.

Besides cigarettes and a vague sense of where we were going, our jeep packed enough food and medicals to supply a little kindergarten. When everything went to shit, I figured it was more important to raid the stores for prescription drugs and canned goods, instead of going for the guns. Ammo only lasted for so long. No, Whopper and I stuck to baseball bats, crowbars, and the occasional axe.

Of course it meant getting close to those things, but whenever we went out, we had latex gloves, glasses, and breath masks on. We had seen dozens of other survivors, bashing deadheads in, getting blood everywhere, even in their eyes and mouths. I used to be a paranoid hypochondriac, and now I was a paranoid hypochondriac who loved life way too much to risk it like that.

The jeep came to a sudden halt, although we were in the middle of nowhere, and Whopper sank noticably deeper in his seat, exhaling heavily. "I can't do this shit anymore."

"Aw hell no! Don't give me that, man! We've made it so far and we will..."

Before I could get any angrier, I saw a grin appear on his face as he stole my cigarette away from me.

"I meant driving, you drama queen. My ass hurts. Your turn."

"Fucking bastard!" I yelled, punching his arm as hard as I could, which resulted in him grabbing my wrist and pulling me close against his massive chest.

"I would never leave you alone. You know that, right?"

His blue eyes grew so gentle at those words, a little part of my heart melted. Before I met him, I had been on my own for quite some time. Not because I chose to. No. Because despite all my plans on what to do if the apocalypse finally hit, I was scared shitless.

Arnie had found me holed up in a drug store, of all places. I was out of my mind with fear, not remembering how I got there or even what had happened to people I once knew. The only thing I had on me was a pitiful pair of scissors. Nothing more. No clothes. No shoes. No nothing. Just a stupid pair of scissors. I didn't want to remember.

I threw my arms around his neck and buried my face in his shoulder. He smelled like leather, dirt and beer. He smelled like a safe place. The only safe place I knew now.

"He, look."

He let go of me and pointed out the windshield, toward the lifting fog. It revealed a little group of trees, right there on the field. In the middle of nowhere.

"Why would anyone leave those trees be and not cut them down?"

"Bird reserve," I said, opening the passenger door. God, it felt so good to stretch my limbs, especially after that ride. "We should make camp here."

The amount of trees was enough to make a decent hiding place for the night, and in this fog, would even supply us with fresh dew water in the morning. A fire would not be seen from far away. And it was getting dark already.

* * *

><p>As always, we used the car as a wall we could build the tent against. It felt safer like that, not having to worry about someone bursting in or stumbling over our fabric home. The back of the tent was facing away from the car, whereas a door was pointing toward it. In that case, if there was an emergency, we could jump right out of it and into the jeep.<p>

We never made just one fireplace, but several little ones in a circle around the tent. They weren't big enough to draw attention, yet still served as a protection against wild animals. And the occasional cow. You'd be surprised about how many farm animals were now roaming the land. I've never seen a wild hog before in my whole life, and suddenly it was like a pig infestation. Quite incredible. And a rather easy food source, if you knew how to hunt.

Which I didn't. Neither did Whooper, BUT he knew how to set traps. Traps didn't need patience, they didn't need tracking down and we never made it painful for the things we caught. We dug them just deep enough for anyone - or anything - not to get out, but the fall wasn't that long either, because we didn't want the animal to suffer any broken limbs. It wasn't fair. Unnecessary cruelty was uncalled for.

That's what I stood by in my old life and what I'm still standing for now.

Plus, for some reason, the animals didn't get the disease. Whopper's dog had been bitten. He refused to kill it, mainly just because he wanted to know what made the disease work. But the dog never died. Never got violent. In fact, the thing that killed it was a ricochet from another survivor, trying to fend off a deadhead.

Damn shame. Although my friend admitted he would've eaten the dog if there hadn't been another food source.

"We've never talked about Tunguska," he said, idly poking the fire in front of our tent with a stick.

A cigarette dangling on his lips, the words slurred by the whiskey which had also been in our packs. If not for cleaning a wound, we could as well have some fun with it.

"Yeah? What about Tunguska?"

I sat on the roof of the jeep, on lookout for the time being, with nothing but a baseball bat in my hands.

"You told me about all the other things that almost killed mankind for good, but never Tunguska. Why's that?"

"I don't know. I guess it never had that much of an impact."

He chuckled at my choice of words, but got serious soon after. "Maybe it was the beginning," he mumbled, with closed eyes.

"The beginning? Of what? ... Arnie?"

But he remaint silent, had fallen asleep. I sighed, turning my back to the fireplace, to stare into the foggy darkness again. If I listenend closely enough, I could almost hear the growls and snarls. I could almost hear bones crunching and people screaming.

There was nothing. It was just my imagination. Just the fire crackling around us. This wasn't the beginning to anything.

This was the end.


	2. Anthem for the already Defeated

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me, except for Whopper and his yet to be named woman friend. **

* * *

><p>Part 2 - Anthem For The Already Defeated<p>

When we woke up in the morning, myself just after an hour of sleep and Whopper with a hangover, the fog was gone. Instead of it, the sun was happily mocking our efforts to open our eyes while stumbling around in the muddy field.

"Ya know what I hate about the apocalypse?" Whopper growled, putting on his aviator sunglasses.

"Wha'?" I yawned and grabbed for a bottle of water.

"No fuckin' blinds. No curtains."

I giggled when he flicked the bird at the bright morning sky and proceeded to put a small pot on top of the fire between the tent and our car. I never let it go out, no matter how tired I was. Also, I knew that my friend needed his coffee in the morning.

"Praise your genius, girl. I woulda never thought of instant coffee."

I put some water in the pot and heated it up. Granted, we could've done it the old-fashioned Wild West way, but neither of us was keen on drinking coarse-grind coffee out of cans that used to hold food. As long we had water, we would use it.

Plus, our thing with the plastic covers had actually worked. We had tied them between several trees and now there were little basins with dew water in them. Bottled water only keeps fresh for so long, and while we'd use it for coffee, we wouldn't use it for cleaning ourselves.

As I was filling the coffee from the pot into a thermo can, Arnie went to wash himself. That usually included taking his clothes off, but I didn't mind and neither did he. Normal roles didn't apply anymore, so why should any of us be ashamed of our bodies?

There was zero sexual attraction between us. Not because he was too old for me or anything. I didn't remember how old I was (though not as old as him), or what my name was, for that matter. Nah. We'd been together for so long now, it would feel weird to start something. He was like my brother. Like my other half.

Plus, I was so comfortable with being naked, I must've been some kind of nudist back in the old days.

"Lookit, girly. O'er there."

I looked at Whopper first and then in the direction his finger was pointing at. Well, I'd be damned. Not more than 100 yards away, there was a huge forest.

"Whaddya say? We finish up breakfast and then go look for some lunch?"

He was already getting into his jeans again as I picked up my axe with a grin on my face.

"I say we bring the coffee and go now. I'm itchin' for some action."

* * *

><p>Now, I've told you before that we were shitty hunters. That didn't keep me from enjoying hacking down small trees in order to get more firewood. You could always use it, especially now as the nights were getting more damp and colder.<p>

Whopper, donning bare feet, a rolled-up jeans, and a black sweater which barely fit over his muscles, was standing in a river nearby, as calm as a fisherman if I've ever seen one, waiting for the prey to come to him.

I was glad I had more movement going on, because it kept me warm. Plus, with him out of the way, I could try out new traps. He had taught me about the ones in the ground, but I was sick of digging and it was a waste of sticks and branches.

A foot hold trap I once read about was much easier to prepare. It only took a small hole, a snare and a couple of wooden stakes. And I while I did know shit about tracking, I knew what several animal tracks looked like. Pigs and deer were the easiest to identiy, so I roamed around the place until I've found trampled dirt.

And tracks that looked nothing like an animal's. "Well, fuck me," I whispered, wiping the sweat off my brow and knelt down to touch what resembled foot prints of a small person. A child, maybe. Barely any profile on the soles, probably sneakers or something like that.

Also seemed the person had fallen down several times. Like it was trying to get away from something. I stood there, probably in the middle of the leftovers of a fight for life, in awe due to the fact that this was the first sign of another living human in weeks.

"Whatcha got there?" a voice sounded behind me, causing me to jump with fear.

"Fuck you, Whopper!" I yelled, still gasping for air from the shock.

He grinned at first, then his gaze fell onto the ground, widening with surprise. "Hot damn, girly."

"Stop calling me that!"

"If ya remembered ya name, I might." It took him a moment to realise what he just said, but I wasn't angry with him. "Fuck, sorry..."

"'s okay," I mumbled, pointing back at the tracks. "So? It's your call. We can still see our camp from here, and we don't know how far these go on."

"Do I need to remind you that we can only follow foot prints for as long as there are some? I know nothin' 'bout broken twigs 'n disturbed grass or whatever."

He made a good point. Also, those fish he had caught started to look more delicious by the minute. What were the chances that whoever was here would still be alive? Especially if it really was a kid.

"I can see what you're thinking and I pray to God I'm wrong," Arnie sighed, stroking his beard.

I looked from his concerned face into the forest that lay before us, dark and uninviting, even in the light of day. We hadn't heard any animals yet. No birds. Nothing. Which was usually a bad sign. But what if it was me out there? I would want someone to come and get me. I knew what it was like to be terrified and alone.

"You go ahead and grill those fishies, mate."

"Fuck, I knew it!" He groaned, throwing his arms in the air. "You better make use of that axe when needed or else I'll cut your head off with it."

"I know you will," I smiled at him, and stood on my toes to give him a sloppy kiss on the cheek. "You taught me how to take care of myself. Don't you worry."

* * *

><p>Thanks to the wet Georgia climate, the ground stayed muddy along my path, protected from the sun by tall trees and the river next to it. Something really wanted me to follow those tracks, for better or worse.<p>

I was starting to sweat like a pig in my dark green sweater, but it camouflaged me well enough in those woods, even if it had the words GUINNESS written all over the front. What can I say? I love a good beer. Shame none of it was around anymore. The sweater and some of the last cans we were able to find were given to me by Whopper. Sweet, kind man. In fact, it had been one of the first clothing items I could call my own.

And although I loved jeans, no one could get me to wear them in this heat. I was sticking to simple army trousers, with lots of pockets and giving my skin room to breathe. Long clothes were a bitch, but necessary. They offered more protection and they were more suitable, now that the weather was getting colder.

I wasn't expecting to run into any trouble in those woods, because the tracks couldn't be that fresh anymore. Still I was wearing the dreaded gloves, my mask and protective glasses. I wouldn't take a chance with my life. Not after almost losing it.

I followed the prints for as long as I could, before I had to stop by the river for a drink. I highly doubted flowing water could be contaminated, despite seeing it so often in movies. Plus, there was not one corpse in sight, animal or whatever. My stomach didn't have any problem holding river water. Whopper was the pussy about trying it.

The thought of him made me smile. _Without him, I would be dead,_ I thought. _I should thank him more. In fact, I should make an effort with the traps and cook him some nice yummy..._

"Deadhead," I gasped out loud, before holding my mouth closed with my free hand and falling to the ground.

Just there around the corner, merely two stumps and one rock away from me, was one of those things, clawing at a tree. A particularly nasty looking one. The thing, not the tree. It didn't have any clothes on, and I could see that chunks of flesh had been ripped out of its rib area. Its skin was green-grey all over, and looking down, I was able to identify the thing as male.

"Ungh," I shuddered, turning my head for a second.

Whatever made them live, it also made them hear pretty darn well, which is why my little sound was enough to draw its attention.

"Fucketyfuck!"

It was already coming for me, gurgling like it had swallowed its own tongue, which was probably the case. Although uneasy on its feet, it maintained a proper tempo, so I got up as fast as I could, axe at the ready.

Before it could even lift its arms to grab me, I swung the axe right at its throat, severing the connection between head and torso as clean as a surgeon... if surgeons were in the killing deadheads business. That hadn't been a hard kill, and I was thankful for it.

You're not born with the ability to react quickly, and it definitely takes some training, especially in the apocalypse. Again, I was thankful for Whopper's skills (would you believe he got them from video games?) and the fact that I kept my tools as sharp as possible.

I took out a small towel and proceeded to wipe the blade with it. We agreed on never wiping weapons' on our clothes. Messy and hard to clean. No need to risk an infection. Finishing that, I went to look why the thing was clawing at the tree.

And then I heard a small cry, coming from the top.

* * *

><p>"It's okay! Trust me, you can come down. It's dead! Like, really dead!"<p>

No matter how much I pleaded and tried, the girl in the tree kept shaking her head, refusing to climb down. Maybe it was my mask that frightened her, so I took it off, displaying an honest smile.

"I won't hurt you. Girls gotta stick together, no?"

"You don't look like a girl," she sobbed, rubbing her eyes with her hands.

Okay, that was true. I had broad shoulders, and although my hips were as wide as them, they were hidden by the army pants. My waist was slim, I had barely noticable breasts at that, plus boyish short hair that was just starting to grow back. I didn't remember who had cut it. Maybe I did. Maybe that's what the scissors had been for.

I wasn't a pretty sight, but I'd be damned before I worried about model appearance in the middle of the freakin' apocalypse!

"Please, I am a girl. I promise."

I smiled as reassuringly as I could manage, although I understood how freaked out the poor thing was. In the woods, with a deadhead at her feet, and some weird person with a mask and an axe. Maybe I should call myself Jay, like Jason from Friday the 13th. I shook my head. Not the right time or place.

"Listen, I know you're scared. I've been in a similar situation some time ago. But someone found me and took care of me, otherwise I would be dead now. Please let me help you."

I put the axe down, holding up my bare hands. "No weapon. I'm not going to hurt you. You really wanna stay in that tree? You a chipmunk or something?"

"N-no," she giggled between sobs.

"Well, ya gotta come down, 'cause I ain't no squirrel either," I laughed, crossing my arms before my chest.

Finally, and very slowly, she started to climb towards me. I was amazed by how strong her tiny arms were, firmly gripping at the branchless bark. It was no wonder she was able to get up so high. When the adrenaline is pumping through your body, and you're followed by deadheads, you could probably walk on water if you wanted to.

Before she jumped to the ground, I took off my gloves and stuffed them into a garbage bag. Again, never let the contaminated shit make contact with your clothes. It was a good rule, given the hug that followed. She was holding me so tightly, I almost had trouble breathing.

"Okay, okay. Hey. It's okay now," I grabbed her shoulders and brought a little distance between us. I wasn't used to hugging. I barely did that with Whopper. "Now, I gotta ask you. I have to. Were you bit?"

Her eyes grew wide with shock. "No. No, I wasn't!"

"Scratched? Got blood in your eyes and mouth?"

"N-no... why would ya ask that?"

"Because you can get infected that way, too. You look clean to me, though. Well, as clean as just dirt can be, right?"

I poked her side, which made her giggle once more. Only briefly, because then realisation kicked in and she found herself alone with a stranger in the woods, with a deadhead at her feet. Not much of an improvement. Seeing tears running down her face was heartbreaking, so I got over myself and hugged her again. The muffled cries into my sweater weren't much better, but at least she wasn't shaking anymore.

Crying. Truly the anthem for the already defeated.

It took her all the strength she had left, for the moment, and as I was carrying her back to my camp, she fell asleep in my arms.

I hadn't even asked for her name.

* * *

><p>AN: Well, I just couldn't let Sophia be dead. Plus, I had to connect Arnie and his friend with the group somehow.


	3. A Revelation

**Disclaimer: I own nothing except for Whopper and Miss Unnamed.**

* * *

><p>Part 3 - A Revelation<p>

It was almost noon when I found the way back to the campside, mostly lead by the smell of grilled fish hanging in the air. I know Whopper wouldn't hesitate to take the girl in, and even help her find whatever she was looking for. We would clothe her, feed her and tend to her every wound. Except the one she had to endure during her time away from her family, wherever they were.

She would get over it, I had no doubt about it. Children tend to grow up fast under these circumstances. I've never experienced it but I'm sure nature took care of those who were strong enough. And she had survived this long on her own. I didn't know how long it had been. By the looks of her, it couldn't have been more than a week.

Even in her sleep, her tiny arms were wrapped around my neck. As if I would let her go now. She was so rangy, frail. Strawberry blond hair covered with mud and freckles still visible from the summer sun. Pushing down the tears that threatened to come, I held my chin up high and walked through the tree line toward the jeep I could see even from this distance.

Whopper, being the good guy he was, sat upon the roof of the car, looking quite ridiculous at that, such a giant, but his face lit up even behind his mask, eyes gleaming with relief. He jumped off his seat, taking off the stupid mask and came running to me.

"Ya made it!" he exclaimed, wanting to pull me into a hug. Then he saw the little girl, stopped on the spot and put on a serious glare. "She bit?"

"If she was, would I have brought her here? Please, Arnie." I rolled my eyes, passing him by. It was then when she woke up again.

Startled, the girl looked around, until she saw my smile. I silently swore to myself that I would never let her see anything but kindness in my face. God, she was just a kid. This was such a cruel world. _No_, a voice reminded me, _it has always been a cruel world. We're just more aware of it, now that it has been knocking down our doors. _

I set her down on her feet, still keeping a tight grip on her shoulders, in case she fell down or something. Whopper knelt down in front of her, tipping his imaginary hat. "And just who might you be, little lady?"

"Sophia, sir," she beamed. I guess she took a liking to him because he reminded her of Santa. I had no idea whether or not children that old still believed in him, and maybe it was only due to Whopper's was the kindest face anyone had ever layed eyes upon, but I was glad she wasn't freaked out anymore.

"Well, Sophia. What a pretty name. Do you like fish?"

"Nahhh." She wrinkled her nose in disgust.

"Don't be silly," Whopper said, ruffling her hair, "Ya just never had fish that liked you. We even got some condiments, so it won't be just the fishy taste."

"Praise the pepper!" I shouted, throwing my fist in the air. "Praise the salt and the barbecue spice!"

We succeeded in making Sophia laugh, which lightened up my heart. It surprised me, really. How much I enjoyed having her here, at our little campside, eating our food, being able to take care of someone.

After a decent meal with some instant mashed potatos on the side, Whopper said he was going to take a look around the area, but I knew he was just giving us some girl time. Although I didn't mind undressing in front of him, I sure as hell wouldn't let an anxious child do that. With the fire still burning, I needed to get out of my sweater something awful.

"Ahhh," I said, throwing it aside, "much better!"

"Wow. You really are a girl."

I found Sophia looking at my chest which was just covered by a black tank top now, and smiled. "Told ya, didn't I?"

She nodded shyly, looking away at once, kneading her rumpled shirt.

"Well, I think we still have some spare clothes. How 'bout it? You can get changed and I won't even look, I promise."

"Oh. I don't mind. Used to it."

That reply threw me back. Unable to say anything, I stared at her with a hardened expression. She took off her shirt, almost casually, and reached for the one that was lying on the back seat of the car. When she turned around, I saw deep, thick scars all over her back, before the new clothes declined me the sight.

"What... who did that?"

Sophia lowered her head, kicking some dead leaves with her sneakers. "Doesn't matter now."

"Oh baby... of course it matters! Tell me who did this! One of the people you were with? Is that why you ran away?"

"No!" she shouted fearfully. "No! They would never... I mean... I didn't run away.. there was a walker and..."

"A walker? You mean a deadhead?"

"Whatever." She shrugged it of in such a grown-up manner, I wasn't sure how to deal with her anymore. "He's dead now. It doesn't matter."

I could tell she wasn't talking about the walker... deadhead.. whatever. No. She was talking about a different kind of monster. And for some reason, I felt ... compassion. Like I knew what she had been through. Before all of this. I saw Whopper coming across the field and told Sophia to go sit in the car, have one of the few sodas we still had.

"Seems we're good to go. The little one okay?"

He went to hide the fireside and collect the trash, while I was still looking at Sophia, lost in thought. She had what it took to survive in this world. With the right training, that was. She could work with the desperate indifference, turn it into something good and powerful. But what if she returned to her group? What would happen then?

"Hey girly!"

I turned to Whopper, who was eyeing me suspiciously. For some reason, he knew what I was thinking. He always did. So I just sighed, shrugged and nodded. "We're ready."

Ten minutes later, everything was packed up and I was driving over the bumpy field. Whopper was engaged in a heated conversation with Sophia about cartoons, but I couldn't find the nerve to listen to them. This was a game of false pretenses. A lie about security. I didn't even know the girl, but I wanted to keep her safe from her own family. From the people she'd been with.

And that was why I decided in that very moment that Whopper and I would stay with them. Whether they wanted our company or not.


End file.
